


wait 'til you're announced

by sleeplessmiles



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fall of SHIELD, Gen, Gun Violence, Jemma's Hydra Arc, SHIELD Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After narrowly surviving the fall of SHIELD, Callie winds up in a Hydra facility, completely cut off from her old classmates, professors, and any support system at all. All she can do is watch and listen, doing whatever she can in order to remain useful (and therefore, alive).</p><p>She doesn't have much faith in the prospect of an eventual extraction.</p><p>That is, until a familiar face shows up in her lab one day.</p><p>--</p><p>Jemma's Hydra arc with one major addition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wait 'til you're announced

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS HAPPENED.
> 
> This chapter includes lots of gunmen at a university/college, so please be mindful if that's a thing that negatively impacts upon you. There's also quite a bit of swearing in this chapter, given the stressful situation.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

 

The day SHIELD’s Sci-Tech Academy fell to Hydra started off no differently than the day before. Or the day before that, actually. Seriously. No one had been acting weird around campus or anything; no one had been muttering to themselves any more than usual, no one was gathering in large, suspicious groups.

Nothing.

That was probably what pissed Callie off more than anything, really. She’d had no warning whatsoever. Had she known, there were a few things she would have done.

She would have ordered a big ridiculous coffee, for one thing. One of those dumb ones that she usually avoided out of fear of being branded a stereotype, with whipped cream and twenty different syrups and a sickening amount of chocolate. Probably would have worn better shoes, too – her lace-up boots, she’d decided. She’d had them for a few years and they were really starting to show their age, but they were comfortable as anything. Plus, they’d carried her to some pretty fantastic places in her life.

They’d brought her to SHIELD.

Oh, and her hair. She’d have definitely washed her hair, if she’d known how long it would be before she’d get to have a decent shower with honest-to-God shampoo.

See, you never really considered the simple freedoms you have until they’re taken away from you. 

She thought about that a lot.

 

-

-

 

She was in Agent Weaver’s office when it all went down, meeting with the woman for a conference about her latest assignment. Which was really freaking lucky, in hindsight, because Callie probably would have done something incredibly stupid had she been elsewhere.

‘Your design was brilliant, Callie,’ Agent Weaver was telling her, flipping through the blueprints idly. ‘Really and truly.’

There was something unsettling about her tone, despite the apparent pleasantness of it. Callie waited for the continuation of the sentence, studying Agent Weaver’s face with narrowed eyes for a few long moments.

Frustratingly, she found nothing amiss. 

‘But?’ she eventually prompted, tone impatient.

The older woman spread her fingers. ‘There’s no “but.” It’s an ingenious device.’

Callie’s heart sank at that. 

‘Yeah, but this would be the part where you’d tell me about interested parties, if there were any,’ she said slowly.

‘Callie,’ Agent Weaver sighed.

Callie just nodded, twisting her lips bitterly. She always could take a hint. Honestly, she’d known this was a distinct possibility all along, considering how out of it she’d been lately. She’d just hoped otherwise.

Stupidly, _stupidly_ , she’d hoped.

‘You’re saying it’s good, but it’s not Sandbox good.’

With a sigh, Agent Weaver leaned forward in her chair. ‘It was supposed to be a collaborative assignment. They were looking for evidence of teamwork.’

She bristled at that, looking up at the ceiling to ward off the frustrated tears that were building behind her eyes.

‘You _said_ – you said I was allowed to do it alone.’ 

‘Callie, yours are extenuating circumstances, and we’re fully prepared to adjust your study load accordingly, but – ’ 

‘Were,’ she cut across, meeting her mentor’s eyes suddenly, fiercely, and clenching her hands into fists at her sides. 

‘Were?’

‘ _Were_ extenuating circumstances.’

‘Callie…’

Her nails were digging into her palms. ‘But I’m okay now.’

‘Please, take a seat.’

‘Seriously! I’m – ’

‘ _Sit._ ’ 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Callie sat. Agent Weaver simply studied her for a few moments in silence before eventually sighing.

(Callie knew that particular sigh well; her parents had long since perfected it. It was considerably more intimidating coming from the woman with a direct say in Callie’s future, though.)

‘You know what your psych eval said,’ the agent began, as gently as possible.

Callie could have yelled out of sheer frustration. That _fucking_ psych eval. Apparently they didn’t like it when you actually, you know, expressed human emotion over having one friend die and another one locked up. No emotions here at SHIELD, no sir.

‘Can’t I retake it?’ she tried weakly.

‘Unfortunately, that’s not really how these things work. You’ll be reassessed, naturally, but they’ll take other factors into consideration. Coursework, designs,’ She looked at Callie pointedly. ‘Interactions with other students.’

Callie felt herself deflate. So she didn’t hang out with other students so much anymore. Big deal. She would’ve tried a bit harder to sit through their empty platitudes if she’d known it’d get her a clear psych eval though, that’s for sure.

She sighed.

‘Okay, so maybe I haven’t been – ’

Agent Weaver held up a hand, cutting her short. ‘Do you hear that?’ 

‘Yeah, the sound of my academic career going down the crapper,’ she muttered.

‘No, listen.’

Callie opened her mouth to reply, but she fell silent at the expression on Agent Weaver’s face – it was almost a frown, really, but her eyes were distant. It was kind of disconcerting. So she did as instructed, ears straining to pick up whatever it was that had the agent so troubled.

Then, she heard it. Far off in the distance, there was… she wasn’t really sure how to describe it. Like, a mechanical kind of popping sound?

_Wait. Was that…_

‘Are those gunshots?’ she asked, scrunching up her nose. She was pretty certain it was some kind of automatic weapon being discharged at the very least, which was never a promising thing.

‘Wrong time of year for freshman pranks,’ Agent Weaver mused to herself, standing up from her desk and walking over to her office door. When Callie stood to follow, Agent Weaver shook her head, holding out a cautioning hand. Callie had to remind herself to breathe after a few tense moments; she’d been unconsciously holding her breath.

When they heard the sound again, it was accompanied by gruff voices yelling, and… holy shit, that was screaming. People were screaming. Agent Weaver stiffened at the sound, and Callie felt her blood run cold at the sight of the normally composed woman looking almost poised to fight.

‘Combat weapons,’ Agent Weaver stated quietly, surely, before turning to meet Callie’s gaze. ‘We’re under siege.’

That took a moment to sink in. Then:

‘We’re _what_?’ Callie asked in disbelief, voice dangerously close to a shriek. But it didn’t matter, her exclamation falling on deaf ears, because Agent Weaver was already on the move. Rushing back to her desk, she grabbed her lanyard, keys, and a tablet, before storming over to a locked cupboard at the back corner of her office. Callie hovered awkwardly, mind racing.

How were they under siege? They’d run drills, of course they had, but she didn’t think it’d ever actually happen. The base was at a classified location – how had they even been found? 

Had someone tipped these guys off?

That troubling train of thought was cut off pretty quickly though, because holy _shit_ , apparently Agent Weaver kept a sizable cache of weapons in her office. She was shoving pistols into every pocket, arming herself to the teeth, before reaching in and grabbing – 

‘Whoa.’

Callie’s eyebrows shot right up.

That was a _really_ big fucking gun.

Terrifyingly, Agent Weaver walked over and held out the massive assault rifle to Callie. ‘Take this and follow me.’ 

Eyes wide, she complied.

(Were all automatic weapons this light? It felt like it was little more than plastic.)

Testing the weight of the foreign object, she watched as her mentor quickly punched a security code into a wall panel, undergoing a retinal scan and then raising her palm to scan as well. With a sudden beeping and a whooshing sound, a section of the back wall pulled away to reveal a bunker-like room, filled with a plethora of gadgets and tech. The old SSR logo had been stenciled onto the wall. 

Secret panic room. Way to go, Agent Weaver.

Callie followed her into the room, almost jogging to keep up with the other woman’s long strides.

‘Bring up the security feeds,’ she ordered Callie once they were locked inside, pointing at the desktop computer mounted in the corner of the room. Relieved at having something to do that didn’t involve oversized guns, Callie readily obeyed, quickly bringing up the master security feed and feeling endlessly grateful that Agent Weaver didn’t question how she was able to do so. She immediately perused the split screens, searching for the cause of the commotion.

It didn’t take her long.

‘Holy shit,’ Callie murmured. At the sound, Agent Weaver looked up from where she’d been furiously tapping at a laptop and strode over.

All they could do was gape.

Every single security feed showed areas of the Academy being overrun by men – not necessarily men, Callie corrected mentally, but intimidating hulking figures in tactical gear, at any rate. Anywhere there were students, there were armed combatants pointing ridiculously large weapons at them. Labs had been completely trashed. In several areas, people were actually physically fighting. The ground of the gym was completely littered with –

Oh.

Oh, _God._

Callie swallowed, trying not to retch. 

They were bodies. There were bodies strewn across the gym floor.

‘Bring that one up,’ Agent Weaver instructed sharply, pointing to the feed from the largest lecture hall.

Predictably, considering it was about 10AM on a Wednesday (it was _surreal_ , how early it still was), the hall was jam-packed with students. Separating it from an average day, though, was the frankly ridiculous amount of black-clad imposters streaming into the room, standing guard by the doors, and yelling orders at the student body. 

The students were all kneeling on the ground, Callie realised, her heart in her throat. Those were her people in there. At gunpoint, cowering on the ground, fearing for their lives.

That’s us. That’s _me._

‘Who are they?’ she muttered, her panic and revulsion suddenly giving way to quiet fury.

Almost as though he’d heard her, one of the combatants turned then, revealing to the camera some sort of logo on the back of his collar. The women leaned in towards the monitor, almost as one, to get a closer look. Callie squinted in the hopes of better making it out.

‘Is that…?’

Her stomach dropped as she placed the logo.

 _No._ There was no way.

But there was no mistaking it.

‘Hydra,’ Agent Weaver breathed.

Neither of them said anything for a few stunned seconds, because what do you even say to that? There were apparently Nazis (close enough, anyway) taking over the Academy, and they were watching it happen. 

‘Wait – what does…’ Callie shook her head, trying desperately to wrap her mind around it.

_Hydra?_

‘What does that mean? We beat them in the 40s.’

Agent Weaver’s face was grim. ‘Evidently not.’ She turned back to her laptop then, face wild, and hit a few keys in rapid succession. Then she made a strangled sound of despair, smacking the keyboard loudly.

Callie jumped at the sudden outburst.

‘The signal’s scrambled,’ Agent Weaver explained angrily, grabbing for a tablet and quickly booting it up. Trying to ignore the burning adrenaline that was coursing through her veins, Callie nodded. Of course they cut it off – no one can call for help if they don’t have the means. 

Something on one of the feeds caught Callie’s eye then, so she reflexively clicked to enlarge it. She regretted the move almost instantly.

‘Uh, you better take a look at this,’ she called out, unable to tear her eyes away from the screen. Agent Weaver came to stand at her back, leaning over Callie’s shoulder, which was probably the only reason Callie heard the softly uttered profanity.

‘They’re dragging kids from the dorms,’ the older woman observed, voice tense. 

The two of them watched, horrified, as large groups of students were poked and prodded by the muzzles of what were, again, _terrifyingly_ large guns. They looked like they were being steered somewhere.

‘They’re rounding us up,’ Callie realised, feeling distinctly nauseous. She glanced across at Agent Weaver. ‘To kill?’

‘Worse,’ was all Agent Weaver said, turning then and tapping rapidly at the tablet before her. Callie only stared back blankly, waiting for some sort of explanation of that chillingly ominous answer. 

‘Sci-Tech is home to some of the brightest young minds on the planet,’ the woman continued almost mechanically. ‘You’re of more use to them alive than dead.’

Callie looked between her mentor and the security feeds in rapid succession, trying to force her mind to focus through the panicked haze.

‘So they’re taking belongings because…’

‘Designs,’ Agent Weaver supplied without looking up, and as soon as she said it, the reality of the situation hit Callie like a blow to the chest.

‘They’re recruiting.’

( _‘You’re of more use to them alive than dead.’_

Use. 

She was of use to them.

Hydra was going to use them.) 

‘I can’t establish contact with any of the academies or bases,’ Agent Weaver confirmed, voice starting to rise a little with barely concealed panic. Callie could relate. ‘There’s some sort of noise across it all. I can’t clean it.’

‘What do we do?’

Agent Weaver began to answer, but Callie found she couldn’t quite listen in. Not after what she’d just seen on the monitor, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye. 

Not after _who_ she’d just seen.

Oh, _fuck_.

Agent Weaver was still talking. ‘… and there’s an emergency protocol that we’ve established for a siege situation that states – ’

‘Is it a SHIELD protocol?’ Callie interrupted.

The woman frowned. ‘Yes, of course.’ 

‘Don’t do it.’

‘Why not?’ she demanded.

Callie looked at the screen again, cringing and swallowing back what might be tears (although tears have never really burned this much, have they?), before meeting her eyes.

‘Agent Weaver, I think they _are_ SHIELD.’

The other woman’s shoulders slumped, distressed comprehension spreading across her features.

‘The scrambled signal…’ she breathed.

All that could be heard in the room for several long moments was the soft humming of all the tech, interspersed with the ever-present sound of distant gunfire.

‘That’s Professor Jacobs,’ Callie said reluctantly, pointing to one of the feeds where her old professor was very much pointing a gun at students. ‘Professor Ahn, Professor…’ Trailing off, she looked across at Agent Weaver, whose face was absolutely stricken.

‘They’re not attacking from the outside,’ Callie finished quietly, voice dull. ‘They’re attacking from the _inside_.’ 

The two women just stared at each other, letting the disgusting truth wrap around them.

How long had SHIELD been Hydra? Callie wondered, feeling a chill run through her. Had it ever been anything but?

Agent Weaver pushed back from the desk. ‘Then they’ll know about this room. We don’t have much time.’ 

‘To do what?’

She didn’t answer. Callie swallowed down the half-cry threatening to tear from her throat, walking over to the other woman’s workspace.

‘Hey, I’m serious! What the hell are we meant to be doing?’ _What am_ I _meant to be doing_ , her brain was screaming. She glanced across at the gun, where it sat threateningly next to the monitors. Holy fucking _shit_ , was she going to have to shoot with it? Was she going to have to kill people?

Agent Weaver was shaking her head, brow creased as she tapped at the tablet. ‘I’ve got a safehouse.’ 

‘Good,’ Callie replied aloud, more to reassure herself than anything. ‘Good, that’s great. How do we get there?’ 

No response. Callie felt panic clawing up her insides. 

‘Agent Weaver. How do we get there?’

Her mentor lifted her head up, meeting Callie’s gaze with a chilling expression. ‘I don’t think we can.’ 

Callie started shaking her head feverishly, over and over.

_No._

‘That’s not good enough.’ 

_What about the others?_

‘Let me work,’ was the only reply she got.

‘Let you – ?’ She cut herself off before she said something stupid, storming away from the woman and scrubbing her hands across her face. She glanced across at the screen again, feeling a now-familiar surge of anger. 

‘Jesus _Christ_ , did they just have the fucking jackets lying around?’ 

How did such complete arrogance go undetected? How did no one know? How could no one suspect this was happening?

How in the _fuck_ did no one see this coming?

 _There were bodies_ _on the ground._

‘I can send out a signal,’ Agent Weaver exclaimed suddenly, eyes alight. ‘It has to be on an unknown frequency, but if I can – ’

‘ – do it,’ was all Callie replied, not even sure what it was going to achieve but knowing it had to be better than doing nothing. She tried not to feel unsettled by how clearly insubordinate her response sounded. But was insubordinate even a thing anymore? They were in the middle of a damn hostile takeover, of all things.

There was a sudden burst of noise just outside the door, with the unmistakable sound of footfalls and men yelling entering the small space beyond the safety of the bunker. They started banging on the door almost immediately.

Her back to the desk, Callie curled a hand around the grip of the gun.

‘They’re in the office,’ she hissed redundantly. Just as she met Agent Weaver’s eyes, a shrill ringing sounded throughout the small space, making them both freeze. It was coming from the holobox.

_Incoming call._

They stared at it in horror for a split second, before Agent Weaver rushed over to it.

‘It’s coming from the Hub.’

‘Well, wh - who is it?’ Callie demanded, running a shaky hand through her hair. The pounding at the door had only increased, complete with angry yelling, at the holobox’s confirmation that there were people inside.

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit –_

Agent Weaver looked frantic, intently typing at the controls. ‘I won’t know until I answer.’

‘So it could be Hydra.’ 

‘No,’ she answered, realising. Fingers stilling, she looked up at Callie. ‘Hydra wouldn’t call. Why would _anyone_ call?’ 

Callie’s eyes widened. ‘Someone’s trying to warn you.’

‘It’s a distress call.’ At that, she lunged across to answer. The machine hummed for a moment, flickering to life, before the image of a short woman materialised.

Wait. That looked like…

‘Jemma! Thank God you’re still alive.’

Callie could only blink in shock at the hazy image of the Academy legend, feeling as though she was looking at a ghost. She hadn’t heard mention of the biochemist since the mobile team was visiting the Academy a few months back, which had been when –

She swallowed, forcing those memories from her mind and trying to focus on the now. Trying to focus on the helping the people still at risk, rather than focusing on the ones who were already bodies. 

One body in particular.

_Goddamn you, Seth._

There was no time to dwell on it, though, as the banging at the door only increased. It sounded like they had something metallic on hand now; it was no longer just their fists, or shoulders, or boots, or whatever they’d been using before. With every almighty crash, the walls rattled, disrupting the feed they were getting from the Hub.

Callie winced at the sound of more gunfire.

The door wouldn’t hold for long; that was for sure.

‘Agent Weaver…’ she cautioned, glancing between the shaking door and her mentor, who was desperately giving Agent Simmons instructions of some kind. Trying to swallow through her parched throat, she grabbed for the rifle, again testing the weight of it in her hands.

A bolt fell from one of the door’s hinges.

‘Don’t trust _anyone_ ,’ Agent Weaver was warning, voice borderline hysterical.

There was a sudden, chilling silence on the other side of the door, followed by a series of muffled beeps in quick succession. Callie barely had the time to even consider what they meant before the door was being blown inwards, the blast knocked her backwards off her feet. 

Everything happened very quickly after that.

Her ears ringing, she quickly scrambled up to take cover behind the desk that had gotten flipped in the explosion. With an errant shake of her head, she realised her fingers were still tightly gripping the rifle.

Oh God.

‘Unhand me!’ Callie could hear Agent Weaver growling, her voice sounding rough and threatening and reminding Callie of a cornered animal, and Callie knew she had to do something. She had to use the gun. She had to –

Holy shit. Okay.

Okay.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped up and pointed the gun in the direction of the main commotion.

‘Stay back!’ she yelled, her voice sounding strangely muffled to her still-ringing ears. They all pivoted to look at her.

Oops.

‘She’s got a gun!’

‘Grab her!’

Cringing, Callie swung the gun towards the door – away from Agent Weaver, she hoped – and squeezed the trigger.

The effect was instantaneous, with the Hydra soldiers immediately lunging for cover as the bullets ricocheted off of every available surface. Gritting her teeth, Callie held the trigger down even tighter and focused on keeping the weapon steady. The recoil was making her stagger backwards so she planted her feet, forcing her trembling thighs to keep her upright. Forcing herself to hold her ground.

The bullets continued to spray from her gun. The Hydra guys began to regroup.

A man screeched horribly, clearly in great pain, and oh shit oh God she shot someone oh shit –

And then they were on her, strong hands gripping her beneath her arms and pulling, one guy yanking the gun from her hands, another swinging a fist at her face.

‘Hey!’ she yelled, clumsily kicking her legs out. Big mistake, because suddenly her legs were being grabbed too.

‘Take your hands - _let go of me!_ ’

They were going to kill her oh God this wasn’t right this was –

‘Callie!’ Agent Weaver cried, her desperate bellow carrying across the chaos of the room. Callie whipped her head towards the voice, gaze cutting through the turmoil to meet Agent Weaver’s frantic eyes. 

‘They need you alive!’ the woman yelled at her, shaking off one of the men restraining her arm. She managed to elbow a guy attacking from behind. ‘They _need you._ ’

Callie distantly registered that her cheeks were wet – with tears, maybe, or blood. Maybe both. The punch had hit really hard before, and her vision was all over the place as a result. But through the confusion, through her swirling vision, she held onto Agent Weaver’s gaze like a lifeline.

‘They need you,’ the woman repeated, voice hoarse. Callie bit her lip almost painfully, nodding her understanding.

Then she watched on helplessly, as though from a great distance, as someone brought the butt of a gun down across Agent Weaver’s face. A sickening crack reverberating around the room and her mentor crumpled, falling to the ground.

Strong arms began to drag Callie from the room.

She _screamed_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Team' by Lorde.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!


End file.
